It Don't Mean A Thing
by Brother Mouse
Summary: Flashing lights. Big city. Tension tension everywhere. Wrongs need to be righted. Red string needs untangling. Empty words need not be said. Paths diverge and join. Others stop short. Limits will be broken.


Prologue: Rebirth Diary

So. You ever read those fanfictions where some random guy/girl get's sucked/transported/slid/etc. Into a random tv show, movie, video game, etc.?

Well if you have, then you've probably noticed that this sub-genre of fanfiction comes in about a variety of flavors but usually start a little like this;

Self-Insert is partaking in the form of media the source material is, author writes a paragraph or two regarding the self-insert, SI randomly with no explanation is plopped into the verse and is instantly liked by all character the author likes and despised by all of the characters the author hates. Characters have next to no resemblance to the canon and are merely tools for the author to enact his/her fantasies. I tend to call this "The Wish Fulfillment Fic"

Usually this type of fanfic is filled with spelling, grammatical, and all around structural errors galore. The worst drag on for ages and attract the newbies of whatever site the fic is posted on. Usually middle school kids barely getting into fandoms and fanfiction. Luckily most don't go more than three or four chapters clocking in around less than five thousand words altogether.

The last kind I'm going to mention seems to have begun with a Naruto fanfiction by the name of _Dreaming of Sunshine_ , where the self-insert is killed within the first paragraph or so and through cosmic what-the-fuckery they're reborn as a character in the universe of their favorite anime/comic/game/etc. Not very many of them are bad. It's a testament to the authors of course. The kind of fan who will double check the wiki to make sure a random attack is spelled correctly, a character's plot arc is captured, or a random nod is given to something funny that happened.

Those kinds tend to be my personal favorite brand of self-insert.

So imagine my surprise, when after a swift and painful death by out of character heroism, I end up not in "the same as life but without the death" Limbo circle of hell, the boring as shit "DMV line to paradise" purgatory, the "so sweet and fluffy it's boring because no sin" heaven, or any other random afterlife that's been recorded by whatever religion. I end up in a dark, comfy, and surprisingly warm place with very little control of my limbs.

Yeah. I'm a fucking fetus. Umbilical cord and all.

I'd be freaking the fuck out if it wasn't so comfy.

I mean, I'm growing inside of some random lady.

No clue who.

No clue why.

Just got to wait.

Who knows.

Oh wait. You're probably wondering "How do you know you've been transpordalated to another world?"

I don't know, I'm actually just hoping and metaphorically crossing my fingers at this point. Deluding myself by thinking that some other me is writing this out on his or her laptop and shit.

Can't hear shit.

It's actually really fucking boring.

Hmm. Wonder what's going on up there?

Guess I'll count the days until I'm born...

Day 1; kicked my mom

Day 2; chilled and recited Ocean's Eleven in it's entirety with shitty accents

Day 3; Sang " _Rock the Kasbah_ " five-hundred times

Day 69; laughed at the number 69 for a few seconds and then started crying internally

Day I lost count so I'm assuming it's like nine; getting kind of cramped in here.

Day I gave up counting; it's kinda cold now and it feels like I'm being pushed out now.

YAY! Goodbye uterus, hello world! Make way for...

Fuck I forgot my name. Ah well. Gonna get me a new one. One that sounds awesome. One that strikes fear into the hearts of mortal men. One that says "winner"

I think I see the light? Yep that's a light.

Holy balls it's bright. Like holy shit I thought the sun was bright. But woo! Those surgery lights. Damn. Fuck try not cry.

Do. Not. Cry.

Fuck it I'm crying a little. It's cold, I'm experiencing fresh oxygen that doesn't come from a meat tube for once and some strange person is lifting me from a really comfy place.

So yeah I'm bawling. Crap I can't open my eyes. Lot's of light still shining through my eyelids though.

Hmm?

Am I being cradled?

Hmm. I'm ok with this.

Oh hey I stopped crying.

Lot's and lot's of gibberish going on. So not in any location that speaks English.

Or maybe I'm just to young to understand. Infants don't have object permanence till age...

yeah I don't know I fucking forgot. 

Well lady who's currently feeding me. Guess it's you and me and whoever my dad is (hopefully) for until I can fucking open my damn eyes.

Welp time to start the day counting again.

Day 5: New Mom seems to be conflicted on my presence. Hearing a lot of mixed emotions in her incomprehensible eldritch speech. I dunno maybe I'm imagining things. I'm an infant. I'm adorable. Or at least I hope I am.

Day 9: Lot's of different people handling me now. There's Smelly, Stabby, and Singer. Smelly smells like lot's and lot's of miscellaneous funk, stoner mixed with incense shop. Stabby has something that keeps poking me. I keep yanking it. Feels like hair. Then there's Singer. He sings. Some drunken melody while sober, I hope.

New Mom's maternal instincts kick in a lot. Mainly around Stabby. Don't particularly know why.

Day 23: Eyes opened yesterday. Can barely see shit. Everything's blurry and fuzzy. Pretty sure I've opened em late. Cause starting to see lots more white coats. Guessing that means there was something up? I mean, it wasn't just New Mom, Stabby, Singer, and Smelly handling me. But I figured it was just a bunch of different nurses. Nope, doctors. Lots of em. Or at least I'm assuming they're doctors. Maybe nurses wear white coats in this universe/time period?

Day 25: New Mom's been yelling a lot. Like I mean a lot. OK more like whispering loudly as to not "wake me up" more than likely. Jesus woman, my eyes may be closed a lot but I am in fact awake. Just don't move my limbs a lot. No point in it. After all you're feeding me most of the time, or holding me.

Day 26: New Mom checked us out of wherever we are. We're in some kind of bumby and rickety loud thing. Guessing a car. With no shocks. We're home I'm assuming. Lot's and lot's of soft scuffing noises. Carpet maybe? Creaking metal. Springs. Bedroom? Staticky noises going on in the background. Scratchy slow jazz. Hmm. Catchy

Ooh! Comfy bed. Or crib I don't mind.

Hmm. New Mom is singing along to the music. It's pretty nice.

Day 35: New Mom gave me something soft and fluffy. Stuffed Animal probably. Still can barely see shit.

Starting to get the impression there were complications with my birth. Maybe premature? I dunno.

Lot's of paper shuffling, a bit of rocking in my cradle. Multi-tasking?

Hmm. Now that I've got nothing but time on my hands, which are covered in really soft mittens, what am I going to be doing with my new-found lease on life? I've got an entire lifetime ahead of me. Maybe more. Who knows?

What do I do now?

Ooh! Milk. From the bottle this time.

Eh, it's food.

Day 50: My fiftieth day truly alive. Eyesight's been getting a little better. Just in time for bright flashing lights and popping. Guessing those were photos being taken? It was only like three, with New Mom cradling me. Might as well start calling her mom. It's not like my old life matters anymore. Not gonna see any of them again. Oh shit that's depressing.

And now I'm bawling. Yep I am bawling. Mom's trying to calm me down. Not working.

Too focused on all the shit I was doing, people I knew, names I don't remember. Memories of places that probably don't exist.

Hmm? Singing? Mom's trying to comfort me. Well, at least she's trying.

Day 99: One more day to triple digits of living. Also I'd be three months old if this new place uses anything similar to the Gregorian calender. My eyesight's been getting better for a while now. Making out shapes and things. Everything is still blurry. But it's been clearing up. In fact; holy shit that is a coffee mug on a roll-top desk. The hell are these lumps? Oh my god those are my fucking feet!

So that's why babies are so preoccupied with their own limbs; seeing them with detail is so surreal. I am laughing. Oh hey laughter, that's something I haven't done in a while. Awesome.

Oh hey, I hear mom coming in. there's that particular tone of gibberish I know and love. Finally I can put a face to the sound.

Uh-huh~ there's your boots.

Pick me up! Embrace me! I am adorable! You cannot resist!

Yes! Victory is mine!

Hmm. Maybe I can pull a Stewie Griffin while I'm wee.

Hmm. I remember movies, TV, and video games, but not my own personal life. Ah well. All in the past. I have a mother to meet.

Hmm. That gold pin on the wall looks familiar...

Get me off your shoulder, I must see your face!

Graying hair, scar on the chin, emerald green eyes. Hmm. Who do I know with those features?

Wait, Outside the window, that statue. Bald dude, arrow on the forehead.

Aang? From Avatar?

Mom looks at me and smiles. Full view. No doubt about it.

I am in Rebublic City and my mother is Lin Beifong. Chief of Police.

Oh shit.

Preparing to cry.

 **After a long and ardous hiatus, I am back in the saddle. With my third attempt at writing an SI for The Legend of Korra.**

 **Expect updates as recent as two weeks and as late as one month**

 **Any non-spoilery questions will be answered and posted to the author's note at the end of each chapter.**

 **I hope you all enjoy this fanfiction and I hope I do not dissapoint.**

 **-Brother Mouse (Formerly known as zeno518)**


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